Magic Mirror
by bellesexual
Summary: AU: Magic works a little different in Neverland, and it doesn't take long for the Dark One's curse to start changing him into the golden-green, scaly creature that all the realms once knew him as. Team Jolly Roger must find a way to delay the onset of the curse for long enough to save Henry. Rumbelle one-shot.


"Stop it," Emma snapped, like a discouraging mother to her child. Gold looked up, indignant at her comment, and tugged his sleeve down, covering his arm back up and hiding the darkened patches of scaly skin that were spreading by the day, almost by the hour. Emma frowned as the rough fabric fell limply around his thin limb. "Staring at it won't help, whatever it is."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Miss Swan," he replied insincerely, adjusting his posture so that he was upright on the boulder he was sitting on, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Well, since you seem to have about as much of a plan as I do, is there anything that _can _stop it?" she asked, crouching down to speak to him more easily. "The whole dark-hearted curse thing. And the, uh, the scales. It's kind of taking you over."

"Gee, you know, I hadn't even noticed," he said, his voice notably more nasal than usual, resembling his former voice, which of course Emma had never known. But everyone else on that ship had, and at the sound of the familiar, sing-songy tone, their heads turned towards the two.

"Gold?" Charming called, hesitant to call on a normal day, let alone a day where a powerful, centuries-old curse was threatening a takeover of their most valuable team member. "Is there something we can do?"

Gold sneered. "Keep walking. It'll be sundown soon – if we've any hope of reaching Peter Pan's base by nightfall, we need to _keep moving._"

"Hey, if you're not okay –" Emma started, but she never got to finish. In a way that was more nimble than she had ever seen from him, Gold lifted himself from the boulder swiftly, with barely the use of his cane.

"It's _your_ boy we came here for, dearie," he reminded her, pointing a long, darkening finger at her. He cleared his throat, though, which negated the confident stride that had seemed to overcome him.

"I know," Emma replied, looking doubtfully at her parents. She was not in the least convinced that they should move on just yet, but nevertheless, she led the pack onward, along a grey and lonely beach.

…

Nightfall hit sooner than anticipated, and the six travellers retreated into the sinister shadow of Neverland's thick, lush forest, albeit with hesitance, for the glow of bonfires that lit Peter Pan's retreat had finally appeared on the horizon. Emma lingered on the beach, however, the murky waters of the incoming tide growing perilously closer to her feet with each wave. For how long she stood there, she did not know. Her features were tense, her hands clenched into fists on each side, and her eyes were grimly fixed on the distant lights. Already, the soft sobs of Neverland's captive children could be heard, just as Hook had warned, with a passing comment about how one could get used to it if they tried hard enough.

The blonde felt a hand on her arm, and looked in the direction of its owner. Mary Margaret's dark eyes watched her in the twilight, and though she did not speak, her message was clear.

"Henry's in there," Emma said, as if that might justify her fixation. It sort of did, really.

"I know," Mary Margaret replied, her sympathy genuine. "We're going to save him. As soon as we can, Emma."

Her reluctance evident, Emma followed her mother to a clearing near the edge of the woods. They arrived just in time to see Gold light a pile of wood ablaze with a flick of his wrist. With that, he rose from his seat. "Just in time for the fire, Miss Swan," he said calmly.

Emma was too tense for courtesy, so she took a seat on what remained of a fallen tree, a few yards away of where Rumplestiltskin sat, on the opposite side of the fire. The light hit his face and she noticed that the darkness had spread to his cheeks.

A rustle came from the trees nearby, and six heads zipped around, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Calm down, it's probably just an animal," Hook said, busily adjusting the laces on his boots before standing up boldly. "Tell you what, I'll go and catch it – might give us some bloody food to eat."

"Ah, I think you better leave that to me," Gold interrupted, holding out a silencing hand.

"What're you going to do, Crocodile? Beat it to death with your cane?"

"Stop it, both of you!" Mary Margaret snapped. "Mr Gold, if you think your magic will be quicker, then whatever will get us food the fastest."

"Excellent," he concluded with a superior twitch of his eyebrow, and strolled into the thickness of the forest, a ball of fire in his palm to light his way.

Emma leant forward, as if about to whisper. "Are any of you … alarmed at all? You know, by this 'curse' thing."

Mary Margaret, David, Regina and Hook all looked at her blankly.

"You don't think it's a little strange?" Another pause. "What? He's _creepy_!"

"He's the Dark One," Charming said simply, as if there were nothing else to it.

"Yeah, I know he's the Dark One. He's got power and magic and immortality."

"And a heart darker than you could even imagine," Regina finished, her arms crossed boldly across her chest.

A chill ran through Emma, and she looked over her shoulder as if he might be standing there, just waiting, watching. But she saw only blackness and returned her gaze to Regina.

"The magic that runs through his blood is _dark _magic," the Queen continued. "Magic that consumes everything in its path. Even his _flesh._" The last words left her mouth disjointedly, a pause between each for emphasis.

"If that's true," Emma said, standing again. "Then why's your skin so clear? I don't see so much as a zit on your face."

Regina sneered at the remark. "I'm not the Dark One."

Something clicked inside Emma's brain, and she seemed to suddenly understand. "You mean that's what he really looks like?"

"Worse," Mary Margaret answered, staring at the fire. "Legends of the Dark One spread all over the realm. He had skin like a snake, all green and scaly. On the end of each long and magical finger were nails like claws, and the teeth inside his mouth were yellowed and sharp like fangs. Not too sharp, just sharp enough to tear human flesh. A wave of his hand and you'd die in the most painful way imaginable."

When Mary Margaret was silent again, she looked to her daughter, whose face showed little more than utter terror. "Oh, don't worry. Those were just the stories they'd tell to bad children at night to make them go to sleep. You know, 'sleep now, or Rumplestiltskin will steal you away!'. That kind of thing."

"So he didn't steal children and eat them?" Emma asked, unamused.

"Well, I never heard any _real _stories about it – but he did have snake skin and claws and sharp teeth."

Emma sighed and thought hard about what her mother had said. Her next question was directed back at Regina. "So … so why didn't he change back into that after magic was brought to Storybrooke?"

Regina's hard gaze faltered and her eyes flicked to the fire. Emma straightened her posture.

"You don't know, do you?"

"I have some theories," Regina answered. "For one, magic doesn't work the same in Storybrooke. It's not a thing that should naturally occur in that world. That might have held it off – at least enough to stop the physical changes. Or …"

"Or what?"

"Or it might have been that his heart was no longer dark enough for the curse to take over."

"What do you mean?"

"Belle," Charming said conclusively.

"You think Belle stopped him from turning evil?" She looked back and forth between the two.

"You'd be surprised what True Love is capable of," he said, looking lovingly at Mary Margaret. Emma ignored them.

"Well, then that's what we need! We need Belle. If they can just … see each other then maybe he won't turn back into some kind of monster that haunts children's nightmares."

"Good luck with that, Swan," Hook interjected. "We had the last bean, remember?"

"I don't get it – why didn't he let Belle come? She was on the ramp one minute and watching us go the next," Charming said.

The sound of something large falling to the floor made them all jump, and behind them stood Rumplestiltskin, the mysterious beast having tumbled out of its arms, now dead.

"Because I didn't want her to have to watch me die," he said, frowning at the lot of them. He lifted his cane from the ground to the ribcage of the animal and rested it there, his hips swaying slightly. "Happy?"

The group froze in shock, and Emma was suddenly more afraid then she would care to admit. This man, this creature who had appeared out of nowhere, with golden eyes and pupils like slits – this was not Mr Gold. With every glance his way, she saw less and less of the pawnbroker and more of the creature that haunted children's nightmares.

Despite herself, Emma spoke first. "You're not dying," she said.

"No, I'm not _dying, _dearie. But I will die."

"He can see the future," Mary Margaret reminded her, but Emma did not need reminding.

"You're not gonna die, Gold. You're not," Emma vowed.

"You've said that before," he countered, pointing a finger to her.

"And I was right!" As Emma spoke, Regina's eyes flicked to Mary Margaret for a second. The raven-haired woman did not notice.

"It's written," he insisted.

"No, it's not. And you're not gonna stay like this either."

"Why are you trying so hard to save him?" Regina asked, seeming utterly perplexed. The other woman did not answer.

"There's only _one _thing that'll break this that doesn't involve me dying."

"I know," Emma said. "And she's a world away. But maybe we don't need to break it – maybe we just need to slow it down. We stop the darkness from spreading. I mean, maybe you don't _need _True Love's Kiss. What if you could just … see her?"

"And how do you plan on achieving that?" Regina asked, sounding doubtful.

"I …" She faltered. "I don't know."

"When you were stuck in the Enchanted Forest, we could see each other," Charming offered, gesturing to Snow.

"Through a sleeping curse, which neither Rumple here, nor his little girlfriend have been under, to my knowledge," Regina said. Gold nodded. "That little trick will do nothing. I might, however, know something that will."

"And since when do I accept help from you?" Gold spat.

"Since we stopped being adversaries and started working together. Unless, of course, you have some kind of ulterior motive?" A look of mock offence crossed her face. She was manipulating him, and he knew it.

"We're fighting the same battle, dearie."

"Then listen. I have a plan."

…

"You sure this is gonna work?" Emma asked, standing two feet away from Regina and directing the question at her. The first hints of daylight were edging the horizon, and the embers of the fire were burning their last light.

"Fairly," Regina said. "It's a simple summoning spell. It won't last past the end of the sunrise, but that's undoubtedly a good thing. We'd hardly want Peter Pan to wake up and find his magic mirror missing. Okay. On the count of three. One … two …_three._"

Regina raised an arm to the sky and Emma followed suit, trying hard to just _focus, _as Regina had said. Within a few moments, tendrils of deep purple smoke rose as high as the tree tops and clung to the sky.

The smoke faded with the wind and from beneath it was revealed a tall mirror, taller than Rumplestiltskin himself, edged with intricate ivy leaves made of solid gold. The man swallowed hard. For once in his life, he had no idea what was about to happen.

He flicked his fingers at the mirror and immediately was greeted with a view of the inside of his beloved shop. The cluttered shelves and dusty glass cabinets almost made him ache for the little building. The refuge he had taken in a dangerous curse, both a home and a prison.

The sound of a bell made his eyes dart to the door, knowing the sound had come from the glass. Belle entered the shop, floorboards creaking beneath her boots. Rumple took a step away, hesitant, suddenly, to see her. Or, more accurately, for her to see _him_.

Belle opened up the shop's windows and let the sunlight in. It was apparently a rarely warm day in Storybrooke, because the brunette wore a navy dress that cut off just above the knees, showing off her shapely, creamy-skinned legs.

At first, she did not see him. She just leaned against one of his cabinets and studied her surroundings. She looked at his treasures with the utmost care, not daring to touch. She polished the glass, though no one had been around to touch it. And she wrapped himself in one of his suit jackets, which, in the haste of their departure, had been left discarded behind the counter. Belle inhaled deeply, putting her nose to the fabric, his scent evidently lingering. She sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and crossed her arms over her chest, wrapping herself in the smell of him.

He had not been going to speak. He had been going to tell Regina and Emma to send the mirror away. But the sight of his poor Belle, looking so incredibly lonely and heartbroken made him ache, and his name left her lips before he could stop himself.

"_Belle_."

She looked up, her eyes wide and full of terror. She was sure no one had seen her come in, and if they had, she certainly hoped that the redness in her eyes was not obvious. She was sure that her tears were the only tears shed for Rumplestiltskin's departure.

Her eyes drifted towards the mirror, and immediately, she got to her feet, taking careful, apprehensive steps in its direction.

"R-Rumple?" she asked, though she sounded more scared than relieved. After all, the creature in the looking glass was not the one she had left at the docks. The two had become barely comparable.

"Belle, darling – " he tried to tell her, to explain, but words never came. It was like everything she had worked so hard to dig out from within him had been for naught. As if all the good in his heart had been negated in favour of dark magic.

She gulped. Her fear was evident, and he could see that her fingers were trembling. "Is it you?"

"It's me, Belle, I promise," he choked out, as fast as he could move his lips around the words. His gaze moved for just a fraction of a second to Emma, who nodded and whispered something inaudible to the others (though he had a pretty good idea of what it was), and led them away.

Once he was sure they were alone, he took a step closer to the looking glass. Her cheeks had that familiar rosiness in them. One that came with hard work and warmth and the blood rush of emotion. Her rich curls framed her face in a way that made him want to reach out and brush them back, just so he could see her eyes a little better.

She studied him, looking up and down, taking in the unfamiliar sight of the Dark One in one of Mr Gold's soft, expensive-looking suits. What was even stranger was the ragged look that he had undertaken from the week or so of hard travel in Neverland. Both her former captor and his alter-ego had always had rather definite senses of style. The crumpled appearance of his clothing caught her off guard, but did not capture much of her attention.

"You look so …" She couldn't even finish her sentence. The morning sun had released its first rays and she could see the familiar glimmer of his flesh so clearly that it was as if he was in the room with her. Her stomach churned; this creature, though she had fallen in love with him, had been, at times, terrifying. The mostly gentle nature of Mr Gold had grown on her, and she had become accustomed to his delicate simplicity.

The dark magic had laid dormant within him for twenty-eight years, waiting until it was ready to transform him back into the stuff of children's nightmares. Without her there, she wondered if he would be able to fight it. It certainly had not worked the first time.

Left alone, she worried that he would lose sight of his own goodness. God knows amongst all that power, it was easy to do. There was little reason to fight for good when letting the power consume him was such a desirable prospect. Baelfire was gone. The only person who loved him was literally a world away, in a place he believed he would never return to.

She considered all this before he looked at her again, and his eyes, black with hints of gold in them. "You never deserved this, Belle," he said. "You never did anything to deserve a monster like me."

"You're right," she replied. "I didn't." His face fell. "But I think I earned my True Love."

Rumplestiltskin's head fell, and balled his hands into fists at his sides. "Belle, I'm so sorry. I truly am. I let my fear get the best of me and because of a seer's prophecy, of all things. I let myself forget everything else I had because all I could think about was myself. So many years of living … they make you scared of death. And that was what I was: I was scared to die."

"That's why you didn't want me to come. You were pushing me away when you needed me the most."

"If consciousness exists beyond the breath of life, Belle, I am so going to miss you."

"No. You're not going to miss me because you're _not going to die._" The heel of her boot hit the wooden floorboards in defiance. "You're not. You can't."

"What if I didn't? If I somehow found my way back to you – you would love _this_?" He gestured to himself in disgust.

"You know what they say about true beauty, don't you?"

She was crying now, real, salty tears. She trembled with every breath and whimpered when he turned away from the mirror in disgrace. "I don't want to be a monster."

She was surprised at him, almost. In a way, it was remarkable how big the change in him really was. Had it been thirty years hence, power would not have been so easily relinquished.

"Then True Love's Kiss will be waiting for you when you get back. And you _will _be back."

He actually smiled at her then. The gentle smile that she had become accustomed to be his earthly counterpart. It was strange to see the snake-like features of the Dark One twist into that expression, but not in a bad way. Those golden orbs of his lit up with purpose and hope, and their light was new and fulfilling.

"I miss you," she whispered, smiling with him.

"I _love _you," he replied, his smile only growing past his watery eyes.

Rays of morning light seemed to suddenly hit the mirror from behind him, and from across the forest, the other five travellers saw his fingertips rise to touch the glass. They could only assume that, a world away, Belle was, too.

The light only grew brighter, shining on his face as the minutes passed, and amazingly, the scales on his cheeks, his fingers, his nose and forehead, all began to disappear. His neck turned back to pink flesh, and when he opened his eyes wide, she saw the brown that she was used to, now.

"It worked," Emma heard Regina whisper, sounding utterly surprised. She did not answer.

"I have to go," he whispered.

"Fighting battles," she finished.

"Goodbye, Belle." But it wasn't a goodbye. "See you soon."

Within seconds, the spell wore off, as Regina said it would, and the mirror faded away. When he seemed approachable, the other five, led by Emma, met him where the mirror had been.

"Looks like we've dodged a bullet, huh?" Emma asked, smiling because, well, there was something to smile about.

"For now," he said, not sounding confident that this would work permanently.

"Then we better get a move on," Charming interjected, and cocked his head west, towards Peter Pan's camp. "We gotta beat the Dark One's curse."


End file.
